Forward, Back
by My Only Carriage
Summary: LL. Story spans time from July 2004-October 2009. Families, relationships, friends, heartbreak and redemption. COMPLETE.
1. Annoucements

**Disclaimer:** All characters are property of the WB and their legal team. I am making no money from this venture.

**Spoilers:** Not really.

**Setting:** Story spans from July 2004-October 2009.

**Timeline:** Jumps to and fro. I see life as a series of snapshots, and have trouble writing the parts in between, which is why I am afraid this may be somewhat difficult to follow and as a result, off putting. Nevertheless, here it is.

**Thanks:** To each and every one of you who took the time to read this.

**A/N:** Story is posted in its entirety. It is comprised of 5 separate chapters and is not a work in progress.

Have fun. Happy holidays to all!


	2. Fathers and Daughters

**September, 2009**

Luke sees Lorelai leaving the party out of the corner of his eyes, and he quickly grabs his jacket, following her out of the dance studio and down the street.

"Hey." He greets her by the gazebo, when he's finally caught up with her shortcut.

"Oh, hi. I thought you were still at the brunch."

"I wanted to talk to you for a minute."

"Oh?" She asks, happy to be around him in any context.

"I wanted to say something to you, but I didn't know how. I'm sorry to hear about your father. I'm sorry that I wasn't there – Liz and TJ were at Renn Faire when he died and I didn't find out until weeks after the funeral."

"Luke, it's alright. It was unexpected. And I got the flowers, thank you. They were beautiful." She says sadly and sits down inside the gazebo, on the bench they shared so many times before.

"How did it happen?" He asks slowly, and he really wants to know, even if it brings back terrible memories of losing his own father.

"He went to bed one night and never woke up again." She says, staring straight ahead.

"You know, I used to think that when he died, it would be all this pomp and circumstance. He was such an important man, everyone knew him. He was rich and educated and extraordinary and I guess I thought he'd die of some exotic disease, something rare that killed only 1 out of 25 million, and people would say, 'that Richard, he defied the odds even in death.' But no, he just died, like any old man."

"I'm sorry."

"Sometimes I wait for him, to call the house, looking for Rory because he's just acquired a first edition of a book she's been looking for."

"Or for you?" Luke asks gently.

"Yeah, or for me." She admits and he takes her hand in his.

"I feel…like I should have been there."

"You didn't know him very well, you had no obligation."

"I think I did. To you."

"Luke." She interrupts because he's being so kind to her and he's sitting too close and she's been waiting for him to do this longer than she's been waiting for her father to return from the dead.

"When I heard, I wished I could have been there. I would have, if I'd known."

"Thank you."

"How is your Mom doing?"

"He died in the pool house."

"Wow. They never got back together?"

"No."

"It must be hard for her."

"She's a stoic. Has to keep the house going, she says."

"Some people cope with it that way."

"It's so stupid, the two of them. Stupid, for so long. At least I got to talk to him a bit lately."

"Oh?" Luke is glad for her, he knows it's easier to find closure this way.

"He gave me the money to pay you back."

"Right."

"He gave it to me as a gift. And then later, when Liz gave me the check back, I returned it to him. And he was disappointed."

"Why?"

"I think he figured I'd go see you and I didn't even do that. I couldn't."

"Lorelai."

"Like father, like daughter." She adds and he watches a couple of lonely tears roll down her face. He then kisses her cheekbone and the tears are absorbed by his lips. She leans into him, slipping her eyes shut.

She needs this man.

"Times change, Lorelai."

"And do we change with them?" She wonders. He looks at her, into her eyes, past the wet eyelashes sticking on one another, into the blueness surrounding her irises.

She leans over and kisses his lips fully without any thought. Salt from her tears lingers between them and he squeezes her fingers in his hands as he kisses her back readily. The skin of her face is so soft, although when he pulls his hands up to her face and traces lines down it, he can feel the tiny wrinkles that have formed around her eyes. Years catch up with us all, but she's still so pretty to him. Maybe moreso today.

"I hope we change with them." She says after she pulls away.

He blinks and nods at her faintly.

"I should get going. It's been a long day." She tells him.

* * *

**November, 2005**

"My valet tells me you didn't come through the house. I take it your mother doesn't know you're here?"

"She's at her DAR meeting this afternoon."

Richard tips his glass of port at her. "It _is_ Thursday, isn't it?"

Lorelai nods absentmindedly, preoccupied with the real reason she's here, nervous about having the conversation with him, how he would take it and whether she'd get what she came for.

"Well, what can I do for you?" He asks diplomatically while she fingers the hem of her sweater, picking tiny lint balls off it.

"Could you not tell Mom about this conversation later, please?" She sets out the terms of the meeting to him and he nods knowingly. He had her figured out at 'hello' like so many times before.

"You need money." He states flatly.

"No."

His face contorts with worry, probably as he explores all other possibilities for her presence here.

"I'd like to borrow $17,000 from you."

"So you need money." He exhales a sigh of relief.

"No, I don't _need_ any money. I'm doing well, Dad. This is to pay somebody back."

"Oh?"

"I would like to square things off with our investors. I've had the business for over a year now, it's relatively profitable, I'm not hurting and I think it's time to have a clean slate."

"And you would rather owe money to your mother and myself?" He asks unbelievably. She knows it sounds like a load of crap and she doesn't blame him for calling her on it.

"So you can't lend me the money?" She asks tiredly.

"What bank do I write the check out too?"

She raises her eyebrows in surprise.

"Really?"

"I've learned long ago with you that I will never get the full story, and I'm a man of a certain age who realizes that he cannot win every battle in the business world or personally."

"Right." She says, all of a sudden taken over by a deep sadness for the man, almost 30 years her senior, whom she'd never completely understood, but didn't bother to understand either, who sat here in a pool house for as long as she'd had her inn, without the only person he'd ever really loved. Lorelai remembers Emily telling her that in 20 years she will have become her, except she sees now that she was wrong. She is her father's daughter, from his sharp business sense right down to his last misfortune.

"So, what will it be? The Bank of America?"

"Can you write it in my name? I actually owe $30,000 to an investor, and I've got 13 saved up, so I'll have to pool the money before giving him a certified check."

"Very well." Richard replies briskly and heads over to his desk, pulling the checkbook out of the top drawer. Lorelai follows him, fingering the smooth edge of the polished wood, as he signs the thing strip of paper with a flourish.

She's aching to say something to him, to tell him that she knows now how much of his daughter she is, and to ask him if he thinks they're both sentenced to this life of pretending that the world is still turning at the same speed when they both know it's slower and so much more painful.

"Thank you." That's all she says when he hands the check to her and she tucks it tightly inside her leather purse. He nods cordially at her and she turns on her heels, starts walking towards the door when he calls her name.

"Did Luke pull his investment out?" He asks neutrally, seeing straight through her even though she'd never officially told him Luke had loaned her any money.

"No. I just, I want to return it. In case he needs it. For stuff. Like a new pick up or if LL Bean is having a flannel sale and he's interested in wholesaling…" She yammers on.

"I see."

"He didn't ask for the money." Lorelai insists.

"He didn't seem like the sort of man who would."

"No." She says quietly.

"Then maybe you should wait until he does." Richard suggests kindly and she's surprised he's getting involved at all.

"He's sold his business, his properties and moved out of the state. It's time, Dad."

She watches her father take a deep breath and nod, conceding her point.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"I didn't think you and Mom were particularly impressed by him." She shoots back, but not in an accusatory manner. It's just a simple statement of fact.

"Were you impressed by him?" Richard asks her.

"Yes…"

"Very much so, I imagine?"

She swallows the lump that's formed in her throat and nods.

"I'm sorry, then."

"Thank you." She manages.

"I don't expect repayment on that sum." He adds.

"Oh, Dad, no, you know it's important to me."

"Nonetheless, some things are important to me as well."


	3. Neighbors and Friends

**July, 2004**

"Why is the Renn Faire English?" She wonders out of sheer boredom and because she's not ready to hang up the phone yet.

"What should it be?"

"Italian. Isn't that where the Renaissance originated?"

"They still had it in England, though."

"But Petrarch started it. Humanism."

"You frighten me sometimes."

"I have a genius for a kid, what can I say?"

"You're no slouch yourself. I bet you did great at whatever overpriced school your parents sent you when you were still at home."

"I good good marks." She says coyly.

"How good?"

"Oh you know me, I don't like to talk about myself endlessly."

That earns her a long, hearty laugh and she shares it with him.

"I like you so much I'm not even going to take offense at your implication, Burger Boy. Besides, that school was dull. We had nuns in their habits."

"Somebody had to shake things up?"

"Stir it up, little darling, stiiiiir it up." She sing-songs and he smiles, loving the silliness flowing freely between them. It helps that they're talking once, twice a day, and sometimes a quickie at lunch time. It's been a long summer, she's missed him, she's missed Rory, and she realizes that she's not that good at entertaining herself.

"Sing that again when I get back?"

"Yeah?" She asks, happy that he is indulging her.

"Yes, _please_." He imagines her outside, at one of those town events that concludes in a fireworks show and she's singing just to him, on their own blanket and he wants nothing more than to get in his truck and drive out of Maine like a bat out of hell.

"Well, since you asked so nicely…I'll do it!"

"Atta girl."

"I'm not a horse." She pretends to pout.

"No way."

"But if I were…"

"You'd be the finest thoroughbred."

"The racing kind?"

"Sure."

"With a shiny black mane?"

"If you'd like."

"And a skinny jockey who wouldn't curve my back with his extra weight?"

"A midget, even."

"They're called _little people, _Luke."

He frowns. "What happened to dwarfs?"

"That's different than a midget."

"How so?" He challenges her.

"They just are. I read it somewhere, or Rory told me. One's like a medical condition and the other is just short."

"Are you serious?"

"Strange, but true. Like Jon Stewart on Crossfire."

"Liz loves him."

"He's very lovable." Lorelai adds knowledgeably, dreamily.

"Should I be jealous?" Luke tries to figure out what Jon Stewart had that he didn't. A sunny disposition? No, he was pretty cynical also. More hair? Okay, he'd give him that, but it was gray, so that should even things out. A ton of money, fame and the adoration of intellectual women all over the country? Bingo.

"I don't know, I'm pretty pleased with the relationship I'm currently trying to establish, but if the relationshipee I'm involved with doesn't get his ass here and to me in the next week or so, my hand may be forced. I might have to look elsewhere. Expand my horizons, outside Stars Hollow, in Hartford, maybe even Boston and if it's a dry spell there, on to the Big Apple."

"And Jon." He guesses dryly.

"That's where he lives!"

"Wonderful."

"Come home? _Please?_"

"I'm trying."

"Tomorrow?"

"The day after that? Does that work for you?"

"Just get back here already." She whines sweetly and makes him smile.

* * *

**May, 2005**

"It's none of your business, Patti." Luke tells her impatiently as he tapes up the packed boxes. He can't believe she's even climbed all the way up to his apartment, first because she's a slow mover and second because it's such an invasion of his privacy.

"Luke, I knew your father and I know he would tell you the same thing."

"_Do not_ bring him into this."

"And why not? Bill would want the best for you too. This town has a responsibility to look after you. Do you know I promised your mother we would before she died?"

"Because I was nine years old then! I'm almost 40."

"All the more reason."

"Goodbye, Patti." He says pointedly and motions at the door.

"Young man, you're going to listen to me if I have to sing it out for you and get Kirk to tap dance along to the beat."

"Patti…" He threatens.

"She's a _lovely_ girl, Luke. She is beautiful and let me tell you if I had her body, I'd have a business lined up outside my dance studio that would not involve 8 year olds in tutus."

"Oh, God."

"And she's successful, and she's done it all on her own and we've watched her and you, you've been in love with her forever! We all saw how you looked at her, like she was a ripe strawberry with whipped cream just waiting to be dipped."

"Patti!"

"And then you finally get the balls to be with her and the two of you, cute as a button on a corduroy jacket! Just adorable! I had your kids names picked out and one day I even said that to Lorelai and you know what? She told me in secret that she'd done that too."

"And I'm sure she'd appreciate you sharing her secrets with the world." He says flatly.

"Not the world, just the man she loves."

"We're not having this conversation. This is between me and her, and not you and not Taylor and most certainly not the town reverend who came here in hope of salvaging whatever was left of my soul."

Patti sighs and regards him pitifully.

"Why do you think a marriage would be the worst thing in the world?"

"What??"

"I know men are afraid of commitment, but Luke, you're being dense."

"This has nothing to do with you, Patti."

"You broke her heart."

He imagines he's got steam coming out of his ears, and he says nothing to her about the real reason behind the break up. He doesn't mention Chris or how gutted Luke felt when Lorelai told him what happened or how she took his heart and stomped all over him. He loves her as much as he did 8 years ago, and this is the last thing he feels he can give her. Privacy.

"Then feel free to hate me." He shoots back as he leaves his apartment, jogs down the stairs and away from the diner.

* * *

**June, 2005**

"We're here with Double Chocolate Chunk brownies and exclusive bootleg DVDs of Chippendale's dancers. Throw your cares away, honey!"

Miss Patti and Babette edge their way past her in her own house and immediately set up shop in the living room. The two women also have something that looks suspiciously like a pile of cheesy Harlequin romance novels with them. She asks them if they're starting a book club, and they just laugh good naturedly.

"No, this is for us to read and laugh at." Miss Patti says.

"Yeah, imagine all those women who think this stuff comes true." Babette supplies.

"Okay, I appreciate what you two are doing here, I really do, but I'm okay. I'm not falling apart and I'm not buying feminist books just yet. Maybe next week?"

"You just let us know, dear."

Lorelai nods from where she's standing as Babette plays around with the DVD player.

"You know, I did tell Luke what a shortsighted fool he was being." Patti confides. "To throw something like this away, it should be a crime."

"Patti, don't be so hard on him." Lorelai says and feels sick to her stomach about how unfair this has all become. He's taken the blame and left town and they're here to comfort her.

"Oh, she still loves him, Babette, do you hear that?"

"It's so sad." The other woman says with a sob.

Miss Patti beckons her over to the couch.

"We know you will be fine. You can survive anything. But let's face it, most men aren't worth a woman like you, and you've been cooped up in this house for weeks now and it's got to stop. No more moping around."

"I'm not moping." She protests.

"You won't be after today." They say knowingly.

* * *

**July, 2004**

It's been a long day, he thinks, exhausted and miserable to be where he is, missing home terribly and the woman he calls his friend. Luke's been in the service business for the longest time, but now he's in merchandise, selling trinkets when Liz and TJ take their afternoon breaks at Renn Faire. He's sick to death of the women trying to bargain him down to nothing, the ones who want custom made rocks as if it didn't take God's creation and a thousand years to make the rocks that are already in the earrings now, and especially the ones who flirtatiously comment on his artistry even after he tells them he can't tell a necklace from a bracelet. They collectively drive him insane and he marvels at how the cell phone has been his greatest comfort this summer.

"I'm going to grab dinner now!" He hollers at TJ who is still cradling that portable TV in his lap.

The smell of charred corn on the cob hangs heavy in the air, but he passes by it, right over to his truck where he hops inside, rolls both of the windows down and leans his neck against the hard, unforgiving headrest. He fishes out his Nokia and hits the speed dial, breathing in the evening air while he waits for her to pick up. Sometimes it takes her a while to get to the phone but this is their regular dinner time talk and he knows she will be home. She gets some food on her way home, or orders in and waits for his call. That way it's maintaining their routine, almost like she's at the diner and he's behind the counter. Once he asked her what she was wearing, because he had seen most of her wardrobe and it was easier to imagine her when he knew what jeans she had on that day. She now tells him every day about her outfit, sometimes in great detail and he loves her enthusiasm and he loves how happy she is to talk about the smallest things and he loves how she always asks him to describe his current choice of flannel – is it green or blue, are the stripes thick or barely outlined, is it thick or light and breathable for the summer? It's the same conversation every day and he'd be perfectly fine with having it not change for the next 50 years.

"Luke! You're late. I already ate half of my egg rolls. The dipping sauce is long gone."

"They didn't give you enough?"

"Not nearly!"

"Were you dipping your finger in it and depleting the supply?"

"Are you being dirty?"

"I don't think they'll outsource that job away from you, no."

"Funny flannel man. So what if I was?"

He shrugs. "Nothing wrong with that."

"Nothing at all." She agrees. "So, how goes it? Itchy from the scratchy flannel yet?"

"Nope. Just a t-shirt today." He says and glances down as if to check what he's wearing in case he'd forgotten since this morning.

"Tight across the chest I hope…"

"It's what Grog Annie tells me she likes in a man."

"The brazen hussy! Can I take her? Is she bigger than me?" Lorelai demands.

"Ummm..."

"She has bigger boobs, doesn't she?"

"Um…how's your dim sum?"

"Good one, Romeo." She laughs. "I forgive you."

"Great."

She pulls her legs up on the couch, lies back, with the cardboard container of Chinese resting on her flat stomach. The rice is clumping in messy little balls and she scoops them up with her fork, chewing thoughtfully.

"Hey, Luke? Tell me something about little Luke."

"Hello!" He yells out and a blush spreads over his face.

"Oh my God!" She laughs. "I should have realized how that would sound. No, I meant when you were a little kid, or in high school. Something back then that everyone in Stars Hollow knows and I have no idea about. I should know, don't you think?"

"Yeah, I guess." He says carefully.

"We are, something now, right?"

"Yes, sure, we are. Of course."

"So, tell me?"

He sighs and shrugs again. "Okay, like what?"

"What did you do in high school, Butch?"

He chuckles at his old nickname and all the memories it brings. "I ran. I worked in my dad's store after school. And I ran a lot. And I played baseball most summers. Stars Hollow wasn't that exciting, you know that."

"How good were you? At the running thing?"

"Good enough for what I needed. I could have run in college, but maybe not Division I. Or maybe I could, I didn't think about it too much."

"Wow, that's _really_ good."

"It's okay." He says, embarrassed about the accolades. He'd always been shy, the kid who sat at the back of the class not so he could fool around, but so that he'd go unnoticed and more importantly, unbothered.

"You should run the Boston Marathon." She declares with absolute certainty and he laughs at the absurdity of the suggestion, but noneless loves that she believes he's good enough for it.

"I never ran the Marathon. Didn't have the stamina for it."

"Luke…"

"Yeah, let's both pretend I never said that."

"Never said what?" She plays along immediately and the corners of his mouth lift.

"I ran the mid distances. The mile, mostly, but 5K also."

She imagines him burning a path down an old dirt road and wonders why she sees him as a character in a Faulkner novel rather than a modern runner in a pair of Nikes at a track.

"Do you miss it?"

"No, but I still run."

She sits up in surprise, almost dropping her fork. "You do?"

"Sure, every morning."

"You do?" She repeats again.

"Just a habit." He says defensively when he suspects she finds it weird.

"Oh wow, why didn't I know that?"

"You're never up at 5:30?"

"Jesus, that's early."

"That is early." He agrees.

"Insanely early. Some commitment, huh?"

"Not really. I have to get up early for the diner, and all the run adds is me getting up half an hour earlier than necessary. It isn't a big deal."

"Well, how far do you run?"

"Two to three miles, that's it."

"Do you have a cute running outfit?" She can't resist asking.

"Most certainly not."

"Can I buy one for you?"

"Define cute."

"Nothing weird, just the nice Nike running stuff that I see on TV and momentarily think about taking it up, just for the clothes. Kind of like Yoga."

"Ah, the fashionista in you rears its beautiful head."

She shakes that beautiful head and rolls her eyes warmly. "Smooth. So, can I buy? Please, let me buy, I haven't shopped in forever. It's not the same without Rory."

He knows this is about more than just the clothes.

"If you want, you have my blessing."

"I want." She assures him.

They sit in a companionable silence for a moment until she interrupts it, as she is apt to do.

"Hey, Luke?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you ever run by my house? In the morning?"

He cocks his head to the side and considers his options. Truth behind door #1 sounds like the best of the lot.

"Sometimes." He finally hedges.

"Do you stop or just run past?" She asks softly. She knows she's pushing, but she adores him and she isn't afraid of these conversations anymore.

"Sometimes." He says again.

"Okay."

"The day I made the chuppah for you, I stopped." He adds impulsively and it warms her heart that he's a willing participant in opening up.

"And?"

"Just looked up at your front door and wondered how much things would change. If I would be able to let go finally."

"Oh, Luke." She says, because he breaks her heart, albeit not maliciously.

"You weren't tormenting me, Lorelai. It's fine. I just wondered if somehow, magically you'd get married and I'd wake up and it would be gone after all those years."

"And then I called it off."

"And I didn't stop outside your door as much anymore in the morning." He admits.

"Good or bad?"

"Probably good, although sometimes I still wondered what would have happened if you'd gone through with it."

"I'm glad you didn't find out." She tells him from the bottom of her heart.

"I'm just as glad."

"When are you coming home?"

* * *

**October, 2009**

The breakfast crowd is clearing out of the Inn's dining room, and Lorelai greets them all by name on her way to the kitchen. She likes the families who come up for a few days, because it gives her a chance to get to know them and in return they give her great feedback on the activities she'd suggested. Lorelai has always been a people person and she feels like being around large crowds energizes her and gives her a new sense of purpose.

Sookie kept herself mostly in the kitchen or alternately hovering in the back of the dining room, studying people's expressions when they bit into that perfect peach crumble she worked on so hard.

"It's been a crazy day! My goodness, people love to eat!"

"When you cook for them, absolutely." Lorelai praises her easily.

"Did you try my new waffles? Oh, you should. The vanilla bean is divine."

"Have any batter left over?"

"I knew you'd ask." Sookie winks and pulls a batch out of one of their large fridges.

"You'll love it! The late fall berries really bring out the vanilla flavor nicely."

Lorelai smiles then crosses her arms and leans back against a cupboard. It's been only six weeks since her world was turned upside down once again. She remembers standing at the bottom of her stairs, watching him put his shoes on, and the long time it took to lace them all the way up. The smell of him on her pillows still lingers, or she's got an overactive imagination. And most of all she considers the terrible gaping hole inside her, a Luke shaped hole that's expanding every moment when she's thinking of him, which these days is quite a lot.

"Penny for your thoughts."

"Oh, you know, I'm just contemplating the universe."

"That's very ambitious of you."

"Well, I have a kid who graduated from Yale, I've got to work hard to keep up with her. She'll be Dr. Rory in no time."

"All her brains are from you." Sookie says and they giggle at the mental picture.

"I've been thinking about some things." Lorelai finally confides as Sookie pours some batter into the Belgian waffle maker.

"Like what?"

"People, I guess. Not things. Much more complicated, huh?"

Sookie crosses the length of the kitchen and pulls Lorelai down into a hug.

"It's okay to miss your father."

It's been three months and after the shock and the initial desperate sadness, she was slowly able to start thinking ahead. She now thinks she is even a little bit grateful, that he went quickly and suddenly and she didn't have to watch him lose his livelihood and his spirit lying motionless in a bed connected to tubes. One moment, asleep, the next moment, gone. She even figures we should all hope for something like that.

"I know. Fridays are just worse than other days, you know?"

Sookie nods.

"Of course. You don't have to explain it or apologize."

Lorelai offers a tiny smile.

"Do you know what I keep remembering? How Luke had his dark day, and he knew that he was not himself, but even decades later, he still had to take off and sit in the woods, away from everything."

"Time heals old wounds, but they don't go away entirely." Sookie says sagely.

"No, they don't."

"Do you want to take the rest of the day? We can manage without you. Laura runs the front with Michel just fine by herself."

"She does. And yeah, maybe I'll take off early." Lorelai adds thoughtfully before Sookie removes the waffle and packs it up for her in a takeout container.

"I want to say something else to you." Lorelai tells her.

"You've been a wonderful friend, Sookie."

"Thank you. You know I love you, hun, always."

"I do." Lorelai holds her hand to her heart. "Which is what makes this really, really hard for me."

"Okay…Is something wrong? Did I do something?"

"No, absolutely nothing. I wouldn't be here without you, and I wouldn't be who I am. Especially over the last four years. You saved my life, Sookie. You sat with me and fed me ice cream and kept my mind on happy things and made me okay with Rory being away and Luke being away and my father passing on. You save me."

Both of them get a little bit weepy, thinking back to the day they met, when they were just kids making their way in the world, and to all the days that followed it. This is what best friends are like, both think.

"What if you bought me out?" Lorelai asks through her tears.

"What? Your part in the Inn?"

"Yes."

"Honey, why?"

Lorelai raises herself up on one of the stools and buries her face in her hands, crying earnestly now. Sookie carefully pats her back, and waves away a member of the kitchen staff when he walks in on the scene unawares.

"I miss him. I miss him so much and I cried over him for four years and blamed myself and I was so, so sad. All the time, Sookie. And I love you for watching all those movies with me and I love Miss Patti for telling me that men are just playthings for us anyway and I love Rory for buying me that Wonder Woman Halloween costume, but underneath it all, I missed him terribly and all I wanted was my doorbell to ring unexpectedly one morning and I'd run downstairs and open the door and he'd be standing there and we'd say nothing to each other, because we'd get it."

"Oh, Lorelai, I'm sorry. He's coming back to see you, at Thanksgiving, isn't he? He promised!" Sookie insists.

"Yeah, he's coming back."

"That's good, isn't it? It's what you've wanted?"

Lorelai wipes her face and grabs a tissue from a box on the counter, blowing her nose in it.

"My father died and I looked at my Mother and she was so lost and I looked at myself and I was so lost and I looked at Rory and she was crying, but she was alright. Because she knew that my Dad knew she loved him and so things were okay for her. And I never wanted to feel that lost again."

"You're not. Luke knows how you feel about him. And he loves you. You know that, don't you?"

"Yes. I know."

"Good."

"I want him with me. I want to be with him. It's all so simple, and it took me four years and I don't want it to take me until Thanksgiving."

"Lorelai…"

"You've been my lifeline, Sookie."

"I can't imagine this place without you." Sookie tells her and her voice cracks obviously. "What if you were a silent partner? Nothing has to be final."

"Would that be okay with you?"

"We can work something out. I want you to go and be happy."

"I want to be happy."

"Then go. Love him. Bring him back so the town can get their fairy tale ending." Sookie smiles and it's all the encouragement Lorelai needs.


	4. Families and Foes

**November, 2005**

Liz has a habit of calling Luke once or twice a week, usually when she and TJ get into some snit and need moderation or third-person intervention. Sometimes, TJ would really piss her off and then she keeps Luke on the phone for an hour, for what says is a "bouncing of ideas" and "mental cleansing" except it's torture for him to have to listen to the excruciating details of somebody else's fights. So when he finds 4 messages from her on his machine after work, he shakes his head at the phone, and grabs a beer from the fridge. It is a summer day, the daylight hours persist late into the evening, and he'd be able to grease his garage door before going to bed.

The phone disturbs his carefully constructed silence in no more than 10 minutes, and he resigns himself to having to deal with whatever the latest crisis is.

"Where have you been all day?" She screeches at him and he holds the receiver a couple of inches away from his ear.

"Working. Did TJ plug up the toilet again?" He asks dryly.

"That's Jess level humor, big brother."

He doesn't argue with her point.

"Listen, Lorelai came into the shop today."

Luke stiffens immediately and feels his teeth grinding against one another in response to the stress he feels.

"And?"

"It's the first time she's come in."

"Okay, Liz, this is worth 5 phone calls, how?"

"Oh, get off it. I know you've wanted to ask about her for months. People and their stupid pride, that's the problem."

He gets irritated now, angry that she's called him out on it and angry that she's right and angry that now he'd be thinking about the stunning brunette with bright blue eyes for the remainder of the night.

"Whatever, Liz."

"She left me something for you. A check. Thirty thousand dollars! Yeah, that's right. When did you give her that much money?"

"It doesn't matter. Why did she give you the money? I told her when I left I didn't need it back and didn't want it either."

"She said she didn't feel right keeping it, she said if things should be neatly over between you, then this is part of that and that she knew you wouldn't accept it, so she had one drawn up in my name."

"Well, I don't want it." He says petulantly.

"You don't want it." She repeats.

"No. Whatever, give it back to her. She _knows_ this is unnecessary."

Liz shakes her head, frustrated with his black and white vision of the world, and even more frustrated that she's now personally involved but can't do anything constructive about it.

"I can't give it back, as she pointed out, since it's a certified check and it's already out of her account! You want me to just dump the money in the garbage?"

"No, you know what, this is ridiculous."

"I agree." She shoots back at him, and he routinely ignores her.

"Cash the check and draw up another one, give it back to her."

The continue to bicker for a few more minutes, and Liz spends most of the time not-so-subtly trying to convince Luke that he is being hasty, that he's been hasty for months now and that sometimes you have to swallow your pride and put yourself out there. He ignores her implications and suggestions and tells her in no uncertain terms that he is doing fine and that contrary to popular belief, his life didn't end the day Lorelai Gilmore left it, or he left her, to be more exact.

Liz eventually agrees to do as he's asked, and the next day, she cons TJ into going to Hartford with her, to their bank, to renegotiate their mortgage rate, because she knows he'll whine to no end if he knew what the real reason behind the trip is. She softens him up by taking him to a lunch buffet with all you can eat pasta, and once he's washed the tortellini down with a couple of Heinekens, he's almost agreeable while they stand in line at the bank teller.

On the way home, she tells him the whole sordid tale and he grows irritated with the evening traffic and how high their fuel consumption is when Liz insists on blasting the air conditioning all the way.

She drives them to Lorelai's house and instructs him to stay in the car. His mood can't help the situation any, and it's already more awkward than it should be.

Lorelai opens her door soon after the second knock. She's in a pair of grey exercise pants riding low on her hips and a tiny baby blue tank top that Luke would surely appreciate.

Liz hates the nonsense of this all.

"Hi, Lorelai." She smiles politely and Lorelai sees Luke's features on Liz' face.

"Wow, Liz, this is a surprise."

"Yeah, listen, I can't stay long, TJ is waiting for me in the car, probably ready to blow a gasket, so I should get going, but I just wanted to drop this off for you."

She hands her the new certified cheque, now in Lorelai's name and then watches Lorelai study it carefully for a minute.

"What? Why?"

"He didn't want the money back." Liz tells her apologetically. "You know how Luke is, once he gets something into his head, he's sticking with it and there is no convincing him otherwise."

"It was a loan." Lorelai insists quietly.

"I'm sorry."

"I don't want to be indebted."

"He doesn't think you are."

"But it was a loan." Lorelai tries again and her voice is weak.

"Maybe it wasn't to him." Liz tells her as gently as she can. "Maybe he's trying to atone for his mistakes? Once he broke up with a girl in high school and he felt bad because the next day she was crying in the cafeteria, so he walked over to her and told her to punch him in the stomach so she would feel better."

"Did she?"

"I think, yeah." Liz chuckles. "He broke your heart, just take the money."

Lorelai looks at Liz, unable to stand it anymore, unwilling to allow the sham to continue. She swipes angrily at her tears with the back of her hand and tries to steady her voice.

"He didn't."

"What?"

"I slept with Christopher. Rory's father. Before Luke left. I broke your brother's heart. Mine too."

"But I thought…"

"That he didn't want to get married?"

"He said so." Liz adds, confused.

"He was trying to protect me. He didn't want people talking about me. I'm really sorry, Liz. I shouldn't have let him do it."

"No." Liz agrees.

They look at each other, two women who love the same man in different ways, trying to find some middle ground, with Lorelai silently begging for forgiveness. It is about to get granted when TJ comes running up the walk and front steps.

"Okay, maybe you girls like being in a soap opera, but some of us have things to do."

"TJ, I'll be there in a second." Liz turns around and tells him exasperated.

"We're going." He says with a degree of finality. "And Lorelai, the check is for $29,992, because the bank wanted 8 bucks for the fee. So I don't think I should pay for it. Also, it cost me a lot of gas to get to Hartford."

"TJ!" Liz screams out his name in a warning.

"What? This isn't Junior High. I'm not the brightest bulb in the room, sweets, but at least I don't play broken telephone with my women."

He turns to a stunned Lorelai. "This whole stupid town has been talking about the two of you. Enough! Get him back or shut up. Keep the money or drive your ass down and give it back to him. This isn't Dr. Phil!"

"TJ, go back in the car." Liz commands and he throws his arms in the air in protest but then stalks down the front lawn.

Lorelai shakes her head at Liz apologetically.

"I'm sorry. He's right. I'm really sorry."

She turns around and disappears into her house before Liz can say another word.

* * *

**July, 2009**

It is a hot and unseasonably dry day for late July. They both still sit there sweating, but it's because the sun beat hard against the back of their necks, where the wisps of hair start to stick to the nape. The game unfolds on the pitch below, the stands are full enough, but not completely sold out. There are lots of young kids in large groups, probably day camps, a few young families and the odd couple on a cheap date. And then the two of them, oddly mismatched and not really talking, only one of them paying attention to the score and the base hits.

"Thanks for the waffle bat."

"Yeah."

"He hasn't yet tried to kill me in my sleep, but it's good to know the tool's there when he needs it someday."

"And you and Amy?"

He shrugs, Luke exhales.

"You weren't meant to be." He guesses.

"Hey, if you want to resort to an overused cliché, be my guest."

"Oh, cut the crap, Jess. You only get to be a teenage rebel so long. You've got a kid now."

"And nobody says I have to stay with his mother."

"Nobody did say."

"Then don't worry about it."

Luke shakes his head, sensing the end of this conversation is soon approaching. Does he keep at it or give up while he's slightly ahead? He's got no idea, but it does strike him that there are other men there in the stands, with their sons and their grandsons and their best buddies and their eyes are peeled on the players and their fingers are tightly wrapped around the beer they're holding, which has started to perspire on the outside of the large plastic cups.

He envies women at that moment. For thousands of years, they've cooked together, heaven help him for associating that with them first. He can't figure out why that should be so, as his mother died so long ago he had no recollection of her meals, Liz could barely muster up a box of no-name mac and cheese and Lorelai may as well have disconnected the electrical supply to the room of her house loosely called the kitchen. The three most important women in his life and none fit his backwards notion of femininity. Nonetheless, he imagines women around a hearth with large earthenware pots, as a brothy soup bubbles over. They share stories, old ones passed through their oral traditions and new ones that will be old someday. They have babies and they raise babies, their own and their neighbours'. They sew clothes together, knit sweaters from tangled balls of yarn, dry the laundry with their bare hands, squeezing droplets out one by one. They heal each other, help their sisters out, stay with their mothers as they lay dying in their beds. They talk about silly things, go shoe shopping, make girly pastries with pink frosting, buy overpriced bath beads and fruity shampoos, braid each other's hair and cry in each other's arms when their hearts get broken again and again.

All men have is beer and a baseball game and no way to relate. And he doesn't want to talk endlessly nor does it think it's necessary to overanalyze every last thing, but he envies them either way.

"You going to see her now?" Jess finally asks when the crowd is asked to participate in the 7th inning stretch.

"Nah. I'll go at the end of September. They're busy now, I'd just be a pain in their ass."

"Delivering another waffle bat?"

"They're having a girl. You didn't know?"

"Liz didn't say."

Luke raises his eyebrows at Jess using her first name.

"She's still your mother."

"And we talk every Christmas." Jess shoots back, glancing at Luke sideways.

"Long time no see."

"When's the last time you've been up there?"

"I'm going in a couple of months." Luke says, ignoring the original question. "For the Christening."

"Right."

"You should come along. Bring Danny with you, show him off."

"Not my style. Not my kind of town."

"It's been a long time, Jess."

"Is it your kind? I don't see your return address boasting a Stars Hollow zip code."

"Yeah, well. You know your Mom would love to see her grandson."

"Maybe."

Luke doesn't bother hiding his smile.

"Yeah?"

"Thanksgiving? You going back then?"

"I'm not sure."

"Too much Connecticut?"

"It just might be." Luke agrees. "But if you want to go, I could do that – go with you."

"You know you'll have to share a room with me and a 2 year old, right?"

"He's a great kid."

Luke can see the pride in Jess' eyes, and he doesn't comment on it or tell Jess how calm he feels about the way he's stuck around, worked the night shift to pay for half the diapers.

The game draws to an end and they make loose plans for November. Luke promises he'll let Jess know if the town is still unbearably quirky and therefore best avoided, especially around major holidays. They walk on down to the parking lot and stand beside Luke's car while the other people empty out in a hurry, hoping to beat the traffic on the way to the freeway.

"I'll take the train. No sense in you paying the toll twice."

"I don't mind."

"No, really. I like it at night."

"When all the weirdos come out?"

Jess nods in Luke's direction, tosses him the free baseball hat they got with admission and heads down to the main road.

"You should have one." He says when he's still within hearing range.

"Sure, thanks."

"A kid, not a hat."

Luke laughs shortly at that surprising suggestion.

"I'm no Larry King."

"You're not that old."

"Getting there."

"She's not that old either." Jess throws back and disappears past the ramp.


	5. Mothers and Daughters

**September, 2009**

After the Christening, everyone piles into Miss Patti's for a brunch, and Liz hands over baby Virginia into Luke's arms, figuring most people are interested in seeing both of them, so why not kill two birds with one stone. He's not completely comfortable with a baby, but by now she's 3 months old and bigger and sturdier than she was as a newborn, so a lot of his fears of not supporting her head have been alleviated. She looks up and smiles at him a couple of times and he's amazed how much she resembles her mother, and he's proud and happy for Liz to have been given a second chance at parenting.

He makes small talk with Kirk who inexplicably speaks to him in baby language as if Luke's not an adult himself, but mercifully Virginia starts to wail and TJ comes running to see what has so upset his mother's namesake. Luke is relieved of his duties temporarily and tries to stay on the sidelines while others mingle and smile at him from the buffet tables.

"You're still here." He hears Lorelai's voice behind him and turns around.

"It's what I came for. The main event." He tells her and smiles.

"Ah, right. The Godfather."

"Me, huh? Who would have thought it?"

"I always felt you had a sinister streak in you." She jokes.

"The stories I could tell." He teases her and pours himself some juice. "Is Rory here?"

"No, she couldn't get done marking all the papers from her TA class, so she decided to stay the weekend."

"How does she like Columbia?"

"It's different." Lorelai says thoughtfully. "I think she was overwhelmed by the big city at first, and she hated how busy it was, but she actually prefers the crowd there. Lots of international students – she brings one over almost every time they visit. They miss their families and Stars Hollow is a good double for that."

"Do you feed them?"

"That's mean."

"Sorry, I was kidding."

"I know."

Things are strange between them. They were best friends, then they were lovers, and intensely so. They gave of each other and to each other and then they were nothing. Now, enough years had passed by so that the immediate pain and awkwardness was gone, and they could regard one another as old acquaintances, except everyone involved knew they were much more. It was a tightrope.

"Anyway, it will be all worth it when she gets her doctorate. My kid, a Doctor. Not even my parents can say that. Wow."

"She is amazing. You've done an amazing job with her."

"Nah, it's all Rory."

"No way." He disagrees. "She owes you a lot."

"You should have seen her at her Yale graduation." Lorelai says wistfully. "She looked so beautiful, and like she belonged there, with all those brilliant minds."

"I did." He says quietly.

"Pardon?"

"I was there."

"Where?"

"At her graduation. Two years ago, I was there."

Lorelai shakes her head, completely shocked by his admission and moves to a corner of the room, away from prying eyes. He readily follows her and they stand across each other, close.

"What, like Mel Gibson in that movie when he had no face?"

"What?"

Then she remembers she's talking to Luke and he's got no idea what she's referring to.

"In the back? You stood somewhere by yourself?"

"I didn't want to impose. I know you were there with your parents."

"How did you get a ticket?" She asks, because she knows it's always a mad dash at Yale for extra tickets and it's usually kids with connections who end up scoring them.

"Rory sent me one."

"Rory sent you one." She repeats stupidly. "Okay, wow."

"I'm sorry." He says glibly, unsure whether he's upset her.

"No, no, she has every right to invite whoever she wants. She just never told me about it."

"She thought it would upset you. So she sent me one of Paris' extra tickets."

"I would have been okay with it. I know you were important to her, I know what you meant to her. I never wanted her to feel like she had to lose you just because I did."

"I know. It's okay, Lorelai."

"So you were there."

"I was. It was a proud moment. I think I even cried a bit."

"You? No!"

"I'm afraid so." He says, embarrassed.

"That's alright, I cried _a lot_!"

"I bet it was incredible for you."

"I can't put it into words even. And I'm sorry now that Rory isn't here. She would have loved to see you."

"Maybe I will stay a few more days." He hedges.

* * *

**August, 2009**

"Mom?"

Rory calls her name through the seemingly empty house. It's the first time she's back from New York since Richard's funeral and she's afraid of the state she may find her mother in.

Lorelai sits in the kitchen table with a large, elegant basket of flowers in front of her. Rory recognizes the white and cream roses with spray orchids and heather woven between them. It's absolutely beautiful.

"Mom?" She asks and Lorelai passes her the note that accompanied them.

"'_It doesn't matter who my father was; it matters who I remember he was.'_

_Deepest sympathies for your loss._

_Love,_

_Luke."_

Rory reads the note and then wraps her arms around Lorelai, allowing her the comfort she knows she needs now and wondering how it's possible that today, three weeks after his death, is the first time she's really see her break down.


	6. Lovers and Partners

**October, 2009**

The parking lot is full of beat up Oldsmobiles, passed down from their father or older brother, not worth more than 500 bucks on resale. The small town reminds her of Stars Hollow with the noticeable difference being the large Walmart that sits across the highway and the strip mall lined with fast food chains. Taylor has managed to keep those out thus far.

The kids are hanging out, some inside the air conditioned restaurants, some on the hoods of their cars, some sitting on the curb. Lorelai clutches the paper bag with her leftover lunch, even though she knows popcorn chicken is inedible when cold.

She is only a few miles away, would take the local minor roads to get there. Now that she was off the I-95, she rips the suction cups on her radar off the windshield and packs it tightly into the glove compartment. She thanks it profusely for getting her through all those states so quickly.

Initially she heads over to his business, assuming that would be the most likely place he'd be found in the middle of the day, on a Tuesday no less. An older man sits at the front desk and tells her he is home, that he doesn't come in on Tuesdays. Business is most brisk on the weekend, so he takes Tuesdays off and sometimes half of Monday, to run his errands and take care of the too-large house he lived in.

She is ashamed that she doesn't know his address, but the old man – Floyd, he tells her his name is – takes a long look at her and she thinks he might recognize her face. From a picture, likely. Maybe the one he still keeps in his wallet. So Floyd takes a green sheet with their pricing guide on one side and draws a crude map to Luke's house on the other side.

It is remarkably accurate, and as she nears the house she recognizes it from the pictures she saw a month ago. She is still about a mile away, but can see the shingles down at the bottom of the gentle sloping hill. There is also a lone jogger up ahead, in black shorts and a flimsy white t-shirt sticking to his back.

She knows that back, and as she drives past him, he keeps looking straight ahead, doesn't notice her, or notices the car but not the contents thereof.

Her hands are clammy as she pulls into his driveway, gravel crunching underneath her car's tires. She sees his pick-up ahead, the new model in a shiny ebony color, and parks right next to it.

Her laptop carrying case and purse sit on the passenger seat and she slings them over her shoulder, because she feels naked just standing there. The bags would at least give her a sense of purpose, establish a certain pretense.

Tall, dry grasses rise by the side of the road and she sees Luke's head bobbing over them, quickly approaching her. He can't see her yet, and she shifts her weight from one foot to the other. Crunch, the gravel goes.

When he turns into the driveway, he notices the additional car first, and her second. Then she discovers it's really possible to stop dead in your tracks.

He stands some 20 feet away from her, wipes his sweaty forehead with the inside of his arm, and then runs the palm of his hand over it as well. She offers him a tiny smile, and hangs her head, trying to figure out what would be a proper greeting in this case.

"I didn't want to wait until November." She finally musters, pushing the words out of her mouth forcibly, one at a time. He just looks back at her, still amazed she's even there.

"So…." She hedges.

He releases his hands from the tight fists he's formed and walks over towards her. She is edgy standing so close to him, where she can smell his skin and see the blue in his eyes and identify the way he is looking at her, and remembers that same look from years ago.

His arm reaches over and he takes the shoulder strap of her bags in his hand, then brings them over to his own shoulder. His other hand takes one of her hands and pries her fingers open until her car key drops into his hand. The keychain is childish, with a tiny figure of Mr. Potatohead hanging on the ring. He thanks the keyless remote entry and pops open her trunk. She just watches him as he unloads the rest of her bags and picks them up, his biceps ripping.

She's caught off guard when he tosses the keys back to her.

"Luke?"

He passes by her, all her luggage in tow, then turns back sharply and kisses her hello. She cups his face in one of her hands.

"Come on in."

* * *

**September, 2009**

"Jesus Christ!" She exclaims, startled out of her mind when she rounds the corner and stops dead in her tracks before knocking head first into his chest.

"Or Luke." He replies in return. Her cheeks burn for an instant, remembering this inside joke they had, and the context in which it occurred and she wants to slap herself for having this reaction. Not having seen him for this long, and the first thing she was thinking of was hands clutching cool sheets, his body rising above hers rhythmically, hot lips burning her skin, his breath and moans at her ear, glistening skin and that ancient warmth spreading through her body.

"It's good to see you, Lorelai." He says, clearly less dazzled in her presence than she is in his. Or is she being spiteful?

"Likewise." She finally manages to reply.

"It has been a while, hasn't it?"

"You kept your promise, didn't you?" She turns his words around, but the hurt is lost in translation, and gentleness takes over.

"Let it never be said Luke Danes isn't a man of his word." She adds.

He shrugs slightly, meeting her eyes for a moment before he looks away and runs his hand through his hair. It's thinner now, but a lot shorter as well, she notices, and he doesn't quite resemble a distinguished gentleman, but a post-Police era Sting. Slight tan, short hair, easy smile.

He's okay in his skin.

"It was for the best. You're looking well."

She regards this as a compliment, because she knows she's not in her most flattering suit today, but it's only been 4 years and although time's chasing after her now, she's still outpacing it by a healthy margin.

"Thank you. You look good too."

"Vacation does that, right?" He laughs shortly.

"Florida?" She guesses.

It's probably a stupid, silly guess. He's not retirement age, for God's sake, she tells herself. Why should he go down to spend time in a minimum security prison and eat the early bird special at 3 PM on the dot, day by day, only to go nap before his game of bocce? He was no snowbird. She'd thought he lost his mind when he sold the diner, but this was a true stretch she couldn't bring herself to believe.

"Here."

"What?"

"My vacation, it's why I'm here."

She shakes her head in confusion.

"You were thinking about my tan?" He guesses.

"I was."

"That's from home."

"Home?"

He simply nods, and she waits patiently for him to elaborate, but he instead glances over her shoulder and his face lights up in recognition.

Lorelai follows his gaze and sees Babette rushing across the street, her arms outstretched, ready to welcome a hero back from the war, where he fought valiantly, lost a limb, but kept his heart and that's what really matters. She imagines him in a uniform, except his khaki top is off and he's wearing only the tight, thin white t-shirt, incredibly happy to be home and see his family. There is no hesitance in his step, but it's slower, heavier with old memories and new expectations in this world that used to be his, but is just a guest house for the weekend. Veterans' letdown, she heard it called once. He crosses the road to greet Babette, not because he wants a hug that's too tight and a lot of tears with it, but because he knows it's coming and he's resigned himself to accepting it.

How many times did she see him cross over the town square? It's a familiar scene, and she feels lightheaded and sick to her stomach all of a sudden, acid and bile combining but not neutralizing as they should, as her chemistry teacher instructed. They swirl deep in her throat, threatening to spill over. She bends at the waist a little, rests the palms of her hands high on her thighs and tries to steady herself. She's not breathless; the air is just not flowing right down into her lungs.

A strand of hair slips down into her face, obstructing her view a little.

God, he still looks so good.

* * *

**Late September, 2009**

Her house is warm, slightly humid from the late summer heat lingering in the air. She's got a pair of eggshell colored panties on and a cream camisole she's pulled back over her glistening skin when she got up to follow him out of bed.

He tells her to go back upstairs, not to watch him leaving, because he can't stand to look at her face breaking again. Especially since they've found something between each other again and he tells her he'll be back at Thanksgiving.

"Take some time, we'll think about things. That's good, thinking?"

She just nods because she can't find the words. They're lost in the ball in her throat and in the bed where they lay when she cried so hard after making love to him.

So she stands at the bottom of her stairs now, curling her toes tightly against the ground, praying for the strength not to run after him, out on the road in her state of undress.

He bends over and puts on his shoes, nice brown nubuck leather with long yellow checkered laces. Her hand grips the banister and she watches him lace up one boot, then the other, looping the laces through the buckles.

Like a camel through the eye of a needle, she thinks.

"I don't want you to go!" She blurts out, then repeats it more calmly.

"I don't want you to go."

"I'll be back. It's not goodbye."

"I don't care." She sniffles.

"I've already stayed an extra week. I have to go back to my business. I wish I didn't. It's just a few weeks, I promise." He tells her sweetly.

She crosses her arms, suddenly feeling very cold.

"I hate this."

"What?"

"The sadness, the weakness, me like this?"

He stands up and reaches her in three steps, taking her in his arms. She willfully surrenders, wrapping her hands tightly around his neck, breathing in his scent, and theirs mingling.

"I don't know, Luke, I don't know anything." She sobs in his neck.

"I know." He says plainly.

He knows what it's like for her. He knows because when he walked into this house today, he was on fire from head to toe, yearning for her, wanting to share everything he has with her. He knows because when he hugged her earlier, she returned it like they'd been together this whole time. He knows because he doesn't even remember anymore having left her.

"I miss my Dad." She cries and he whispers soothingly in her ear.

"I know."

"So much."

"You're a good daughter."

"I wanted to be."

"You are." He kisses the top of her head and his hands massage her back.

"Wait for me?" He asks her reverently.


End file.
